


The Secret Meadow

by smithpepper



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dark Fantasy Elements, First Kiss, M/M, Slow Burn, tw: minor character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithpepper/pseuds/smithpepper
Summary: Something strange is happening in the woods, and Leorio, the young new doctor in town, is determined to get to the bottom of it. Little does he know that he’ll fall in love with the forest’s most dangerous inhabitant.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	The Secret Meadow

**Author's Note:**

> I had the urge to write a dark fairy tale Leopika AU. This is a bit of a different style for me, so please do let me know if you’re enjoying it and I’ll write more like it! 
> 
> I don’t know what it is about quarantine, but it makes me want to live in an abandoned castle in the woods and sew clothing for my mouse friends and bake bread all day. If you’re feeling the same way, this is the fic for you.

Once upon a time, in a town far from here, there lived a bright young doctor.

His name was Leorio Paladiknight, and he was tall and thin and raven-haired. When he smiled, his face lit up like a flower in the sunshine.

No one in town knew where he came from. When he started his work in the clinic, the patients all gossiped about the young man’s city accent and his elegant navy suits. What was he doing so far out in the countryside? There was nothing to do in this dreary, ramshackle town, and very few dared to explore the thick forest surrounding it.

Some guessed that Leorio was fleeing a failed marriage or business venture. Others whispered about a mysterious lover. The rumors subsided after Leorio’s first case, three days after he arrived in town, when he delivered Mrs. Weatherby’s tiny premature triplet babies, all of whom survived. It was the first time the town had witnessed such an event. Usually such emergencies ended in tragedies, which were then chalked up to God’s will. But with Leorio around, things changed quickly. Old folks were living through heart attacks and strokes. Children were pieced back together after ghastly accidents. Some swore that their aches and pains dissipated at the mere touch of Leorio’s long-fingered hands. He really was a true healer. 

* * *

Which was wonderful, of course, but after two months of work, poor Leorio was so busy that he could barely think straight. His days were a blur of sharp-smelling antiseptic and dusty file cabinets and endless cups of weak black coffee. The clinic was outdated and in desperate need of repairs, but where would the money come from? The state government seemed to ignore this far-flung part of the country, and so Leorio had to make do with expired antibiotic ointments and clunky old computers that whirred like jet engines. He rarely made it home to his studio apartment before midnight. 

On his rare days off, he explored the woods. Hehiked out past the dingy town limits and beyond the rusted train tracks and the gray windows of the textile mills until he reached the womblike quiet of the woods. He relished the cool piney air against his skin. Sometimes he brought a book and laid in the wildflower meadows to read. On other days he simply walked the winding paths until the afternoon light started to wane, at which point he would turn and head back to town for supper at the pub. 

The townsfolk enjoyed seeing him outside of the clinic, and plied him with food and drink. 

“You’re crazy, Doc,” called Zepile from across the weathered wooden bar. “You couldn’t pay me to drag my ass out there!” 

Leorio winked and raised his mug of honey mead in acknowledgement. Zepile was a friendly young man who ran a pottery shop. His hands were always stained with clay, and his feathery eyebrows were dusted with fine powder. Leorio liked listening to Zepile regale the other customers with tall tales of his trips overseas. 

“You’ve got to make sure that you’re always back before sunset,” added the bartender, a trim redheaded girl called Mito. Her grandmother owned the pub, and they were both excellent cooks. She brought out a steaming chicken pot pie and placed it in front of Leorio. “It’s not safe at night. Really, if I were you, I’d just stay away. Careful, the plate’s hot.” 

“It’s nice out there, though,” Leorio said amicably, spreading a napkin over his pants and eagerly inhaling the pie’s rich aroma. “But I’ll be careful. Cheers, Mito. Looks great.” 

Just as he dug his spoon into the flaky crust, his phone rang with an urgent call from the clinic’s night nurse. Someone had collapsed at the factory. He would have to go at once. 

Sighing, he stood up and threw a handful of silver coins on the table for Mito before turning to go. He cast a longing glance at the pie. 

“We’re lucky to have him,” Mito said as he hurried off into the night, and everyone agreed. 

* * *

The man at the factory had broken his collarbone in a nasty way, and it took Leorio a long time to set the bone, stitch and dress the wound to protect it against infection, and dose the man with enough medicine to help him sleep through the pain.

The sun was rising when Leorio unlocked the front door of his small apartment and stumbled inside. His clothing was stained with blood and rubbing alcohol, and his stomach growled with hunger. He should have been exhausted, but the adrenaline in his system made him feel restless and jumpy.

Perhaps a walk in the woods would calm him enough to sleep later in the day. He changed out of his dirty clothes and made himself a piece of toast with strawberry jam before heading back outside, whistling a tune. 

It was a beautiful autumn morning. The old town looked freshly rinsed in the apple-scented sunlight. Leorio walked quickly towards the forest, taking long strides and breathing in big lungfuls of clean air.

Mito’s little son Gon was fishing in the creek by the train tracks, dangling his short legs into the murky water below. He called a greeting to Leorio as he passed.

“Hi, Mister Doctor! Going back to the woods?” 

“Thought I’d take a walk,” Leorio replied. “What are you fishing for?”

“Trout! I’ll bring you one later, if you want.”

“Sounds great,” Leorio agreed, and continued on.

The sun grew much warmer by the time he reached the edge of the forest, and his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. Wiping his face, he stopped to listen to the sound of distant birdsong coming from the dense thicket of trees. A sudden cold breeze lifted his shirt off of the back of his neck, and he shivered.

“Well,” he said aloud to no one, and set off into the woods.

* * *

Depending on who you talked to, all matters of strange creatures inhabited these woods. Mito spoke of a cousin who once saw an enormous fanged bear, its saber-like teeth dripping venom. Senritsu, the town’s traveling musician, insisted on the existence of a singing frog that persuaded its audience to drown themselves in the bog. Gon, in his matter-of-fact way, told Leorio that he should beware of animals with the ability to impersonate humans. But as Leorio walked deeper into the forest, all that he came across were chipmunks and birds and the occasional white-tailed deer darting away into the scraggly underbrush.

“Sorry,” Leorio told a mossy-antlered stag as it scrambled through a tangle of blackberry vines. “Didn’t mean to scare you!”

When he paused to check his watch, he was surprised to find that it was already mid-afternoon. It didn’t feel as though he had been walking very long, but clearly he was losing track of time. Perhaps the exhaustion of the previous night was taking its toll. Come to think of it, his limbs ached with fatigue.

Just a bit farther, then. He nodded to himself in resolve before continuing on, his footsteps crunching against the dry leaves and twigs underfoot. The air smelled pleasantly of damp earth and woodsmoke.

After another ten minutes of walking, he emerged from a thick cluster of trees into a sunlit clearing dotted with delicate blue flowers. A hidden brook burbled somewhere nearby. He felt a moment of slight pressure on his shoe, and looked down to see a fat bullfrog hopping across his path. Was this the terrifying monster of Senritsu’s imagination? He chuckled, and sank down into a patch of soft grass to rest for a few minutes before turning back.

The grass was warm from the sun. He leaned back and propped his hands behind his head, staring up at the cloudless sky. As he watched a hawk soar high overhead, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. 

* * *

Someone — or something — was watching him. 

He woke up to the feeling of chilly dew clinging to his clothes and skin. The air temperature had dropped significantly, and the grass beneath him was scratchy and wet. He wanted to jump up and hurry home, but something told him to keep his eyes firmly shut when he regained consciousness. There was a presence nearby. 

He heard it (them? he? she?) take a tentative step out of the brush, their light footsteps barely making a sound. They gave a quick intake of breath, close enough that Leorio heard their mouth open in surprise. His heart thrummed in his chest, but still he did not stir. He willed himself to stay perfectly still, listening intently as the person, or creature, or ghost, walked in a circle around him. At one point he felt the slightest brush of a silky hand against his wrist, checking for a pulse. His throbbing heart betrayed him at once. 

“Ah,” said a husky voice, sounding unhappy. “You’re alive, aren’t you. You shouldn’t have come here.” 

“Sorry,” Leorio whispered. “Can I look at you?” 

There was a sigh, and then a long pause. Leorio took a deep breath and caught a whiff of lemongrass. When an owl’s cry echoed across the clearing, he felt a quiver of fear. It was very late now, long past nightfall. 

“If you did, I’d have to kill you, I suppose,” the voice said thoughtfully. “I would rather not.” 

“Me too,” Leorio answered politely, his mouth going dry. “Please don’t.” 

The voice laughed, and it was a surprisingly lovely sound, clear and sweet like a bell. Leorio wondered if perhaps this was all a vivid stress dream. Was he still back at the clinic, suturing up that man’s shattered collarbone?

“Stay here,” the voice instructed, startling Leorio out of his reverie. “I’ll be back in a moment. Please don’t try to leave on your own. You won’t survive. And keep your eyes closed.” 

Leorio obeyed, and heard a rush of footsteps thudding across the clearing. When they faded into silence, the air felt instantly colder, and the refreshing aroma of lemongrass was replaced by something sickly sweet and rotting. 

His stomach clenched with nausea. He tried to breath deeply through his mouth to stave it off. Something was rustling in the bushes again, making a raspy dry scratching. Someone was calling to him, clawing their way out from the muddy creek, but he mustn’t look over there.

_Leorio, come help._

_Leorio. I can’t breathe through the dirt._

_Leorio, please...my chest is so heavy. Please._

_It hurts..._

No. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t really him. It couldn’t be. Just ignore it. His mind had played this trick on him before when he was overworked. It wasn’t real. He kept his eyes squeezed firmly shut, panic rising like bile in his throat. He started to tremble.

Several interminable minutes later, the familiar footsteps padded across the clearing once more. Leorio exhaled in relief as the air grew sweet again and the rattling from the bushes subsided. 

“Stop that,” hissed the voice in irritation. “Ah. My apologies. Are you still alive?”

“Yes. I think,” Leorio replied weakly. “I’d like to go home, though. And I need to see my patients.”

“Oh! You’re a doctor?” the voice asked, brightening. “What sort? What humors do you treat?” 

In spite of himself, Leorio chuckled.

“Humors? That’s kind of...last century. Uh. Well, I’m a family doctor. I sort of do everything, but it’s a lot of broken bones, and pregnant women, and old guys with diabetes, you know.” He stopped, bemused at himself for explaining his work even in this nightmare scenario. “Ehm. Anyways. Let me know when I can leave.”

“Right about....now,” said the voice. Leorio heard them set something down on the crinkly leaves. “Good luck. The shoes I’ve left know the way home. Chew the bark before you start walking. Don’t come back.” 

With that, the air around him went instantly still and empty, as silent as a vacuum. Even the birds and frogs ceased their night chorus. Slowly, Leorio cracked an eye open, and saw that the clearing was as deserted as he’d found it. Propping himself up with a groan, he spotted a lumpy package wrapped in a thick yellow scarf sitting on the damp ground beside him. Unraveling the scarf, he found a large pair of old-fashioned leather boots with pointed toes, and a small chunk of splintery bark.

He was supposed to wear the boots? And eat this piece of wood?

It was freezing out now, so he draped the scarf around his shoulders and jammed his feet into the boots. They seemed to shrink to fit his feet, and as he wiggled his toes, some of the aching in his tired calves and thighs receded. Now all he had left was the bark. He glanced down at it again, blanching. 

He couldn’t explain to himself why he was trusting this mystery being. After all, he was a doctor, and far too rational for all of this.

But something wasn’t right in this forest. He needed to leave. That much was clear. 

Shrugging, he popped the piece of bark into his mouth and started to chew. It wasn’t too bad. It tasted of cinnamon and cloves, and he felt a wave of energy radiating from the crown of his head and spreading to his chest and pelvis. As he swallowed, he felt a tug on his foot, and looked down, wondering it it was another frog. There was nothing there, but clearly the boots had a mind of their own. It felt like someone invisible was yanking on his foot as hard as they could.

“Well,” Leorio said, scratching his nose, “I don’t know how this works. Go ahead, I guess.

At once, the forest around him started to blur. 

As the boots tugged his feet foreword and he tumbled down the rocky path, careening left and right and scraping against tree trunks, he heard snatches of garbled conversation around him. The sky lightened from pitch black all the way back to a balmy pale blue. 

He found himself standing at the edge of the forest once more. The sun was high in the sky, and the air was clean and apple-scented. He looked at his watch and saw that it was ten past eleven in the morning. He was wearing his normal shoes.

Stunned, he stood frozen in place for a long moment, staring blankly into the forest. The birds were singing again, and the sun was warm on his face. His heart pounded in his ears.

Because he couldn’t think of what else to do, Leorio turned his back on the forest and started to walk slowly but deliberately back towards town.

_Don’t panic. When you get home, take an aspirin, call the nurse, and schedule a visit with a shrink. Probably just a stress breakdown. It happens._

By the time he had crossed the rusty train trestle, waving at Gon as he fished and dangled his legs over the murky water, Leorio had calmed down enough to think rationally. He needed sleep, and water, and professional help. He’d heard of this happening to other doctors. A good long sleep was the most important thing.

As he walked down his familiar street and fumbled in his pockets for his keys, the vivid sensory impressions of the forest and the boots and the mystery person and the thing in the water all began to take on the tissue-paper quality of some half-remembered dream, and  started to fade from his memory. That’s all it was, really: an unusually vivid dream.

But that voice. And the hand on his wrist. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him. Doctors didn’t have time for things like that. It was so gentle...

_No. Snap out of it._

It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear it, and started to put his key into the lock. His hands shook with exertion.

“Morning, Doctor!” called a cheerful voice, and Leorio jumped. “Oh goodness! Are you just now getting home from work?”

He turned to see Mito waving at him from the street. Abashed, he rubbed the back of his neck and returned her friendly wave. 

“Ah! Sorry. Didn’t see you there. Good morning!”

“That’s a lovely scarf,” Mito said, nodding towards him, and when Leorio glanced down to see the yellow scarf clutched tightly in his hand, he dropped his keys with a clatter, his eyes growing wide.

* * *

Three weeks went by, and the world sank deeper into autumn. The trees turned to fiery reds and golds. The grassy fields were frozen over with crunchy silver frost in the twilight mornings when Leorio walked to the clinic. Carved pumpkins started to appear in windows and on doorsteps.

For the most part Leorio put the whole episode out of his mind. He hired a medical student from the closest local hospital to work as an intern and help him cover easy cases. He slept and ate more, and even visited a psychiatrist for a full evaluation, but the gray-haired woman merely shrugged and told him that he seemed to be perfectly sound.

If it weren’t for the lumpy yellow scarf draped stubbornly over his kitchen chair, Leorio could have forgotten about the whole thing entirely. He threw himself into work at the clinic. There was a flu going around, and he administered a vaccine to everyone in town who would take one. Some of the older folk distrusted modern medicine, and Leorio visited them in their cottages and patiently explained the benefits of such a thing, charming them and complimenting their tea and cookies until they relented. It was gratifying; they would now all live to see another spring. 

Yes, things were almost normal. But everything changed when they found Pokkle.

* * *

It happened on a rainy Tuesday night. Leorio finished a pile of patient charts and walked down to the pub, clutching his coat tighter against the wet wind. He was hoping to eat some of Mito’s beef stew.

When he opened the door, he saw Mito and Senritsu hovering over a sobbing woman at the bar. The other customers looked on anxiously, prodding at their plates of food and barely speaking. A pale man in the corner watched the scene through narrow green eyes and shuffled a deck of cards in his spidery hands.

“Oh,” Leorio said, feeling as though he’d stumbled across something he shouldn’t. Mito and Senritsu glanced up at him with red-rimmed eyes, both sniffling back tears. “Pardon me. I’ll just—“ 

“Quickly. In the back room. Please,” Mito choked out, patting the woman’s back as she sobbed harder. “Do whatever you can. It’s Pokkle.”

Leorio’s heart sank. Pokkle was an archer and often ventured out at night to shoot elk and boar. Perhaps it was a bad hunting accident.

Senritsu fetched the woman a mug of brandy and held it to her face, murmuring encouragement. Leorio opened his mouth to ask more questions, but fell silent when he met the woman’s eyes. 

“Help him,”  she mouthed, and then buried her head in Mito’s shoulder and wailed.

Leorio pushed his way through the tangle of chairs and scrambled into the kitchen, where Pokkle was lying on the floor. Zepile and two other men from town were crouched beside him, holding a rag to to his head. A puddle of congealed blood oozed across the packed dirt floor of the kitchen. Pokkle let out a high-pitched keening noise and contorted his hands in agony.

“Let me see,” Leorio barked, rolling up his sleeves and crouching down. “Move aside. What’s that you’re holding?”

Zepile gave him a bleak stare and moved the bloody towel. Beneath it, a large swath Pokkle’s skill was missing, revealing a glistening expanse of his brain.

Feeling faint, Leorio took a long, steadying breath. He needed to stay calm. 

“A whole part of it is...gone,” Zepile muttered to Leorio, looking nauseous. “He just stumbled in here a minute ago and collapsed. We tried to stop the bleeding.”

The other two men nodded in agreement, and Leorio gave them a grim nod of approval.

“You did well. I don’t know if I can do much, but at the very least he needs fluids and antibiotics. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He sprinted out of the pub’s back door, and ran the two blocks to his clinic to gather up syringes and bandages and medicine from his dark office storeroom. Pokkle would need extensive surgery to survive, but Leorio could try to buy him some time. Running back to the pub with his arms full of materials, he dialed the nearest hospital and asked for an ambulance. It would take over an hour for one to arrive.

“Shit,” he spat, and burst back through the back door of the pub. “All right. Everyone step aside so I can start a central line.”

Zepile and the men did not move. 

“Now!” Leorio yelled, ripping open a syringe. “We don’t have time.”

Zepile met Leorio’s eyes and shook his head very slightly, glancing down at Pokkle. Leorio followed his gaze and saw that Pokkle’s tortured face had gone very still, his eyes glazing over and his skin turning yellow.

One of the men began to murmur last rites, making the sign of the cross over Pokkle’s chest. Leorio exhaled a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Did he say anything? When you saw him?” he whispered to Zepile as they hovered in the shadowy pantry. Zepile grunted, his mouth a thin line.

“Mm. Said he was hunting in the forest and something got him. Then he collapsed.”

They stood side by side for another moment, and then Zepile patted Leorio on the shoulder.

“Thanks for trying, Doc. Hey, do you think you could...uh, be the one to tell Ponzu? His wife? I don’t think I can manage it.”

Leorio agreed, although he didn’t want to. It was part of his job, after all. Ponzu was inconsolable, but Mito and Senritsu promised that they’d look after her.

* * *

It took Leorio many hours of tossing and turning to drift into an uneasy sleep that night. 

Patients died sometimes, of course; that much was inevitable, but he couldn’t get the image of Pokkle’s terrified face out of his mind, nor his contorted hands. What animal could have possibly done that?

All the more reason to stay far away from the woods, he told himself, rolling onto his side with a heavy sigh. Something was wrong there. 

* * *

“So do you have your mask yet for the Feast of the Dead? It’s next week, you know!” 

Leorio looked up from his desk to see his intern standing in the doorway. She was a kind-faced young woman in her early twenties named Elisa, and lately she had been staying long after her shifts ended to help Leorio with paperwork. 

“My what?” Leorio asked, hunting through his pile of manila folders for a pen. “What’s this feast?”

Elisa’s hazel eyes grew wide.

“Oh! That’s right, you’re not from here. The Feast of the Dead. It’s our end of autumn celebration. There’s a night festival in the town square, and everyone wears a mask. Supposedly it’s when the spirits of the ancestors come back and walk around for a day,” she giggled, “but really it’s just the old folks that still believe in it. They put offerings at the temples and everything too. Fruit and liquor and paper money, you know.” 

“I see. That explains all the oranges in the temple near my house,” Leorio said, grinning at Elisa. “Well, that sounds like a good time. I love festivals. I guess I’ll have to come if I’m not working.” 

“Of course!” Elisa agreed brightly, and then blushed. “And, uh...it’s sort of a...nice event for younger people, too, if you want to...bring someone. You could bring your...girlfriend, if she’s visiting,” she finished, giving him a sidelong look. “From the city.”

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Leorio replied absently, capping his pen and standing up to stretch. “But it should be fun just the same, eh?” 

“Sure!” Elisa said, and stood in the doorway for another moment, twisting her hands together. “Well...unless you need anything else, tonight, I’ll take off, then.” 

Leorio looked up and smiled, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think so. Thanks, Elisa.” 

* * *

On his way home, he passed Ponzu, Pokkle’s widow, tending to her beehives. She looked pale and tired, but smiled at Leorio’s approach and thanked him for trying to save her husband. They spoke for a while, and Leorio told her to come into the clinic if she ever needed to talk. 

“Thank you,” Ponzu said through her beekeeper’s veil. She brushed aside a few stray bees and gazed across the grassy field. Golden cattails waved in the afternoon breeze. “Can...can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” Leorio said, taking a step back from the bees. “If it’s bee related, I’m afraid I can’t help, though.” 

She didn’t seem to hear, and continued staring out at the meadow, lost in thought. Leorio waited, shifting from foot to foot in the cool air. After several minutes she turned to him. Her face was glazed with tears. 

“Do you think...anything happens after someone dies? I know the old legends around here say that people come back during the autumn feast, but...I don’t know. He already feels a million miles away.”

Her thin shoulders hitched beneath her beekeeping suit. Avoiding a cloud of bees, Leorio reached out a hesitant hand and touched her arm.

“I’m sorry, Ponzu. I wish I could tell you the answers. But I know as much as you.” He paused, considering, as the bees buzzed around them. “Although, sometimes, I do think you can feel a connection. I do believe that.”

“I hope so,” Ponzu said, and Leorio nodded. “I hope you’re right.” 

* * *

The rest of the week leading up to the Feast of the Dead was a busy one. Leorio delivered a breech baby, set a broken femur, administered chickenpox vaccines to an entire class of first graders, and performed a colonoscopy on the embarrassed town priest. By Friday afternoon, he was relieved to be done with his list of patients, and decided to close a bit earlier than usual.  


At seven o’clock he turned off the clinic lights and started to lock the doors, only to find Elisa hurrying up beside him, her arms full of shopping bags.

“Do you need anything else today, Dr. Paladiknight?” she asked, beaming up at him. “I can stay later if you’re going home to get ready for the festival! And,” she said, rummaging in the bags, “I got you a mask. You’ll need one to get in tonight.” 

“Oh!” Leorio said, bemused, as she presented him with a purple dragon-faced mask. “For me? Thanks!” 

“So did you, um. Find anyone to go with?” she continued hopefully. “Because. Well. If you need someone. I’m not going with anyone!” 

Leorio locked the door and blinked down at her, surprised by her candor. He must have missed the signs before. 

“Oh. Elisa,” he said, feeling awkward, “that’s...that’s very nice of you, but I’m your boss. Wouldn’t it be a bit...?” 

She blushed a brilliant magenta and looked down at her feet. 

“Right! Right,” she said breezily, waving a hand. “Of course. Never mind. Well...” 

They both tried to walk out of the door at the same time, and ended up bumping into one another and laughing nervously. 

“Oops. After you,” Leorio said, opening the door for her, and she scurried away, calling a hurried goodbye. He stood in the doorway for a moment and watched her go, feeling vaguely guilty. 

Had he been leading her on? He didn’t think so, but this wasn’t the first time a woman had misread him. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Elisa, he mused as he walked home in the gathering twilight, carrying the dragon mask and frowning. It was just that women didn’t do anything for him. He enjoyed being around them, and found many of his female acquaintances lovely, but he had no interest in actually taking anyone home.  


He had no desire to marry, except for when he occasionally felt lonely at night and wished for someone to greet him at home at the end of a long day.

_Like now, for example,_ he thought with a wistful grin, reaching his apartment and unlocking the front door. As he toed off his shoes and set about unpacking his work bag, he decided that he would give Elisa a bonus check at the end of this month. Whatever her ulterior motives may have been, she really had been doing wonderful work for him. 

* * *

After a hot bath, Leorio changed into a clean linen shirt and donned his dragon mask. He took a look at himself in his smudged hallway mirror, and was impressed by how well disguised he was. He could barely see the pupils of his dark eyes behind the glittering purple mask. It was scratchy against his face.

He cast a glance at the lumpy yellow scarf that was still draped over his kitchen chair. It was cold enough outside that the scarf would be nice to wear, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. It seemed to emit an aura of quivering static electricity when he walked near it. His hair stood on end. With a shiver, he left it where it was and grabbed a jacket instead. 

He started off towards the town square. The neighborhoods were dark and almost empty, save for a few other last-minute stragglers. Everyone, he was pleased to see, was wearing an equally elaborate mask. As he walked down the cobblestone streets, he joined a procession of ghosts, foxes, devils, crafty-faced cats, and other colorful demons as they filed into the bustling square.

The center of town had been transformed into a autumn wonderland. Candles flickered and sputtered from the carved interiors of huge pumpkins, and all of the buildings and trees were decorated with strands of glowing paper lanterns. Rows of wooden stalls lined the sidewalk, each hawking a different seasonalfood or drink. Leorio walked slowly past each stand, hungrily inhaling the scents of sizzling kebabs, spiced nuts, candied apples, and clove-scented stews bubbling in enormous cast iron pots. Everything looked delicious. He wove through the chattering crowd to purchase a cup of hot cider from a vendor wearing a monkey mask.

“Having fun, Doctor?” asked a fox-masked person to his left. As Leorio took a sip of his cider, he noticed the shock of bright red hair above the mask.

“Mito!” he said, his voice muffled. “Hi! Yes, this is great.”

She bought herself a cup of cider, and came back to join him. 

“The dancing should start in an hour or so,” she called over the noise of the crowd. “When the moon is high. Make sure you stay until then! That’s the best part.”

“I don’t really dance,” Leorio confessed with a laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll make it until then.”

“No, no,” Mito said firmly, taking a swig of her cider. “It’s a superstition around here. If you join in on the dance, your loved ones will be guaranteed to survive until next autumn. If you don’t, all of the spirits that are here tonight will take it as permission to steal someone when they return to the underworld tomorrow morning. So make sure you dance!”

“Yikes. That’s a lot of pressure,” Leorio quipped. He drained his cup of cider. “Wow, this is delicious!” 

“Go easy,” Mito said, giggling. “It’s pretty strong. It’s only half past nine.”

Leorio hadn’t even realized that it was alcoholic. That explained the pleasant tingling in his hands and pelvis. He suppressed a burp and nodded.

“Oops. Good to know. And I call myself a doctor.”

Mito laughed and waved him off, walking back to find her son Gon and his friends. Leorio took another loop of the food stands, and bought himself a bowl of chestnut rice that he ate with his hands while leaning against a tree. He felt suddenly ravenous and light-headed. Mito hadn’t been kidding about the cider.

As he wolfed down the buttery rice, he enjoyed watching the throngs of masked townsfolk go by. Everyone was in a jolly mood. Senritsu was playing her flute, accompanied by her band of traveling musicians. Small children scurried between the legs of the adults, clutching candied apples and screeching happily to one another.

Leorio was startled out of his reverie by the sound of drums beating from the center of the town square. He watched in interest as the crowd dispersed to reveal a pair of men dressed in red demon costumes. They each held a leather drum and wore bells around their ankles and wrists. As the drumbeats picked up speed, the noise of the crowd died down, and everyone drew closer to listen. Leorio edged forward, peering over rows of heads to watch. He was grateful for his unusual height.

The drummers began to dance in a tight circle, jumping up and down and shaking their arms and legs frantically. The audience started to sing and clap, but the song was in a country dialect that Leorio couldn’t understand. The music vibrated in Leorio’s chest, and he understood the urge to sing.

The crowd began to dance along with the drummers, matching their frenetic movements. In his cider-addled state, Leorio felt slightly panicky that he couldn’t follow the steps. When someone jostled him from behind, he lost his footing and stumbled into a small blond-haired person.

“Sorry,” he gasped, hopping backwards. He put a placating hand on the blond’s shoulder, who turned towards him to reveal a beautifully painted cat mask that covered their entire face.

“Here. I’ll teach you,” they said, and took Leorio’s hand with a strong grasp. Too surprised to resist, Leorio stepped forward and started to dance.

“Jump when they jump,” the cat instructed, muttering in Leorio’s ear over the jangling drums and the chanting crowd. “Right...now!”

They both leapt into the air at the same time, and Leorio laughed in delight. He felt so clumsy, and this person was effortlessly light on their feet.

“Sorry. I’ve never done this before,” he apologized. The cat chuckled. Leorio felt his ears go hot.

“You’re doing well. Ready...? And....jump!”

Their hands were still tightly clenched over Leorio’s, and the top of their blond head only came up to his chest.

“Have we met?” Leorio asked, letting the cat pull him to the edge of the dancers, but they acted as though they didn’t hear. “You seem familiar.”

“You should have some water,” the cat replied, releasing his grip on Leorio’s hands to adjust their mask, and it was then that Leorio noticed the scent of lemongrass on the air. His stomach flipped over.

“Hang on,” Leorio said, taking a step forward. “Aren’t you...?”

Ignoring Leorio, the cat pushed up their burgundy sweater sleeve to check their watch, and made a noise of dismay.

“I should go. But it’s good that you danced tonight. The spirits will take note. Be well,” the cat said, and hurried back into the crowd.

Leorio rushed to follow them, searching for the glimmer of blond hair in the glow of the lanterns, but they were nowhere to be found. The dance was dying down now, and the townspeople were starting to remove their masks and walk home, carrying tired children and bags of roasted nuts in their arms.  


As the vendors closed up their stands, Leorio scanned the square for another moment before setting off at a jog.

It was late, and he should have been going home, but instead he ran towards the edge of town, past the train tracks, over the rusted bridge, until he was standing at the edge of the black woods. 

“Who are you?” he asked the trees, leaning his hands on his knees and panting. “Where did you come from?” 

It was much colder out here. His teeth started to chatter as he stood in the darkness. The buzz of the alcohol was wearing off now, and he felt like an idiot for coming all the way out here. He would be exhausted tomorrow. This was a foolish idea. 

“ _What_ are you?” he said desperately, clutching his jacket closer. “Are you even real? Can you...give me a sign, or something?” 

The woods remained silent. Shivering and cursing himself, Leorio turned to begin the long walk back home to his empty apartment.

And then, from deep within the forest, a light turned on.

_END OF PART ONE_


End file.
